The Infancy of Us
by Saintsavory
Summary: This story is told from the infancy of Alex and Piper's relationship, before they traveled the world together. In episode 1.3, we see a young and naïve Piper when they first meet, and we hear Alex say, "You were just this boring little girl from Connecticut who wanted to feel special and bad." This story illustrates how that all began.
1. Chapter 1

Note 1: This story is told from the infancy of Alex and Piper's relationship, before they traveled the world together. In episode 1.3, we see a young and naïve Piper when they first meet, and we hear Alex say, "You were just this _boring_ little girl from Connecticut who wanted to feel special and bad." This story illustrates how that all began.

You don't have to read my first story, Adventure and Excess, to understand this one, but it would help to establish the baseline for Piper's demeanor. If you choose not to read it, this story picks up from after their first night together.

Note 2: Every place and every item mentioned in this story is real.

Note 3: This story is complete with five chapters, and I plan to post a new chapter every day or every two days, depending on if people like it. Please review.

Note 4: "The Infancy of Us" is a song by a chap named Eliot Morris.

Chapter 1

Alex and I spent the next 48 hours in her apartment, and the only shred of clothing I remember wearing was one of her worn out, black t-shirts. She showed me her extensive vinyl collection, and we listened to Coltrane, Zeppelin, Johnny Cash, Pink Floyd and Ella Fitzgerald. Alex's musical interests were as varied as her taste in literature.

She had floor-to-ceiling bookshelves in the living room, stocked from top to bottom with everything from Homer to Hemingway, plus an additional four stacks of books in her office. She kept her most prized first editions of _Leaves of Grass, Middlemarch_ and _Mrs. Dalloway_ in a locked box in her bedroom closet. We read snippets to each other as we laid covered in a cashmere blanket in front of her fireplace.

When the rain began pouring down one evening, we ordered Indian delivery and ate Tandoori chicken and naan on her custom-made sofa as we watched _42__nd__ Street_, which Alex introduced as her favorite movie. She owned every one of the hundred best movies of all times.

As I browsed her vast film collection, Alex offered me a choice between a 1979 Chateauneuf du Pape or a 1988 Montrachet, and I had no idea what the difference was or what was so special about these wines.

"Well." Alex held the opaque bottle in her right hand. "Chateauneuf du Pape is from the southern Rhone, and this bottle is mostly Grenache."

"Is that red?" I was nowhere near an oenophile.

"Yes, Grenache is a red varietal." She pursed her lips and tried unsuccessfully to hide a smile. "Montrachet, on the other hand, is from the Cote d'Or, and this one is a Chardonnay."

"I know that one," I announced proudly. "It's white."

"Yes, good!" She dug a corkscrew into the Montrachet. With the ease in which the cork popped out, it was evident she'd opened many bottles of wine in her lifetime. "I'll take you to France some time. We'll go to the Rhone Valley, maybe spend some time in Bordeaux. It's the best way to learn."

Although I hoped the affirmative, I didn't know if Alex was serious about her offer, so I just smiled and pushed the two Riedel wine glasses closer to her. It was hard for me to fathom how Alex became so sophisticated at the ripe age of 26.

"Have you been there?" I watched her tilt the bottle.

"Twice." She poured a small amount of wine into a glass and swirled, then sniffed it. "The first time, I spent a few nights in a renovated farmhouse on a vineyard called _La Crau_. It was unbelievable—the food, the wine, the scenery. I met Henri Bonneau," she said with a perfect French accent. "One of the most famous winemakers in the world, and he spent an entire day with me in the vineyard, showing me how the grapes grew and how to prune the vines." Alex poured two full glasses and handed one to me. "The second time, I was the guest of a French impressionist and prominent client." Alex sat next to me and wrapped her arm around my shoulder. "She taught me about the Rhone varietals and let me taste some of the most expensive bottles from her cellar. Of course, sex was the trade off."

I hit her in the side. "You had _sex_ in exchange for _wine_?"

"Yes!" Alex laughed. "She was by no means beautiful, but she sure as hell knew her wine."

Alex proved to be a series of contradictions, and I never knew what would come out of her mouth next. I sensed that she liked being mysterious as much as she liked pegging me. It was, for example, no surprise to her that my favorite childhood movie was _Lady and the Tramp_ or that my favorite poet was Elizabeth Barrett Browning. She guessed that I used to like boy bands and Tori Amos. She also figured that I went on summer vacations with my family, but she had no idea how fucked up my family was now.

When I went to the diner on weekdays, Alex worked from home. Occasionally in the evenings, she spent time on her laptop or escaped the apartment for an hour or two. There were a couple of nights when the shrill of her cell phone woke us up, and she went into another room to have a conversation. We kept that part of our lives very separate, but I knew a serious conversation was imminent if our relationship was going to move forward.

* * *

Over the next two months, I began falling in love with Alex Vause.

She took me to the opera one night and a Public Enemy concert the next. We listened to the Julliard string quartet perform on a Saturday afternoon and got drunk at Coyote Ugly the same night. We traded novels and had a competition to see who could finish first and give a five minute synopsis without using descriptions from the book jacket.

On a snowy night in December, Alex and I decided to cook prime rib, mashed potatoes and creamed spinach. She played 60s records on her phonograph as we cooked in nothing but underwear and aprons. Neither of us had attempted such a feat, and the kitchen was a complete disaster before the meal was ready. In the end, the meat was burnt, the potatoes overcooked and the spinach looked like slime.

"Fuck it." She pulled me up from my chair and drug me into the living room where _You Really Got a Hold on Me_ was booming. "Dance with me."

"What are you doing? The kitchen is a mess!" I protested. "We can't leave it like this."

"I'll hire a maid in the morning." Alex pulled me close. "Now shut up and dance with me."

I never understood the meaning of _swooning _until that moment.

* * *

When I realized that my feelings for Alex were becoming stronger, I invited Polly to lunch to tell her that I met someone. She'd seen me go through a string of relationships in our youth and didn't put much stock in any of them.

"Are you here to tell me that you're moving in with him?" She teased.

"It's not a him. It's a her." I glared at her.

"Back to women, are you?" She sighed.

"What, are you Yoda?" I put my water glass on the table. "Does it really matter to you if I'm with a man or a woman?"

"No, I guess not." Polly tilted her head. "I want you to be happy. Is that what I'm supposed to say?"

"That would be nice. If you meant it."

"Look, I want to meet her—"

"Alex," I interrupted. "Her name is Alex. Alex Vause."

"I want to meet Alex." Polly took my hands in hers. "If she's special to you, I'm sure she's going to be special to me."

"She _is_ special. She's fascinating." I gave her a small smile and squeezed her hand. "She's hosting a champagne and oyster party on the 16th. I'd love for you to come."

Polly smiled. "Done."

* * *

Alex's work kept her home for a while, so we spent nearly every night together over those two months. In a way, I felt like I was nesting in Alex's house, and it felt right.

On a Sunday morning in bed, as she rubbed my aching feet and I read the _New York Times_, she asked, "What do _you_ like to do, Piper?"

"What do you mean?" I moaned as she caressed my heels. "I like everything we've been doing."

"I'm glad," she said. "But most of it is stuff that _I_ arranged or suggested. I'm asking what _you_ enjoy?"

I sat up and faced her, dropping the newspaper. "I like reading, running, shopping, watching movies. I don't know, normal stuff."

Alex chuckled. "That _is_ normal stuff."

I had been sensitive about my ordinary life since childhood, and this conversation made me uncomfortable. "There's nothing wrong with normal, you know," I said with false conviction.

"I didn't say there was." Alex propped herself up on one elbow. "I just can't imagine living a normal life."

I lowered my head and asked the question I'd been afraid of all along. "Are you bored with me?"

"God, no!" She quickly sat up. "I'm not saying that at all, Piper. It's just that I've asked you to do all sorts of things, and I never asked what you like."

No one had ever said anything like that to me—she actually seemed to care about what brought me joy. I was about to thank her for her sincerity, but I wasn't adept at handling emotional conversations, so I turned the conversation to a place I was sure I could handle.

"Well." I grinned. "I like getting wet."

"Yeah?" Alex scooted closer to me as she trailed her hand down my torso. "What makes you wet?"

"I think you know."

She touched my center, and I arched my back. "I _do_ know, baby."

We had sex for an hour, and then took a shower and got dressed for an afternoon on Staten Island.

* * *

On the ferry ride there, Alex stepped behind me and put her arms around my waist. "I want you to take me out."

"Like on a date?" I turned my head halfway around and smiled at her. "Are you serious?"

"Yes." She brushed a long strand of hair out of my face. "Like I said this morning, I want to know what you enjoy, and I want you to show me."

"Is this like that 80s song?" I sang a bit of the chorus. "_I wanna know what love is. I want you to show me_."

She playfully hit my stomach. "Shut up!"

"You're honestly up for anything?" I asked, still smiling.

"Fuck yeah. I'll try anything once."


	2. Chapter 2

Forgot to say that no copyright infringement intended; I don't own these characters.

Chapter 2

It took me a while to arrange a "What-Piper-Likes" date with Alex, but I wasn't sure if I'd consider it flawless. Everything else we'd done together was perfect, and it felt like a ton of weight on me to try to show Alex that I had my own interests apart from her, but that I wanted to share with her.

I warned Alex to dress comfortably and to bring a change of clothes for the latter part of our outing. I should have been more specific because our idea of "comfortable clothing" was very different. Alex wore a pair of jeans, a flannel button up shirt and a leather jacket. I had on old sweat pants and a tank top underneath my coat.

"What the fuck?" she asked when I showed up at her door. "Are we going dumpster diving?"

I looked down at my outfit then back at her. "Um, no. Do you have sweats?"

"You mean like yours?" She laughed and folded her arms against her chest. "No. No, I do not."

I pushed my way inside her apartment. "Alex, you have to wear your pajamas then."

"You want me to go outside in my pajamas?" She shut the door behind her.

"We won't be outside for long," I protested and took her hand, dragging her into the bedroom. "Please, Alex. We're going to be late."

"I can't believe I'm doing this." She shook her head and mumbled to herself as she changed into what I referred to as her 'house' pants and a Nirvana t-shirt. "This better be worth it."

We took the subway to stop one of our day-long outing, and as we approached the storefront, I could see Alex's mind working. There were several women racing inside with yoga mats tucked under their arms.

"You can't be serious," she announced. "Are we going to a fucking _yoga_ class?"

"You said you'd try anything once." I pushed her inside. "And it's not just yoga. It's hot yoga."

Alex was clearly not as into the class as I was, and the noises she made throughout the session seemed to annoy the other patrons. They only made me smile, but the sweat dripping down her arms and forehead made me want her. I'd never seen Alex sweat, even in the throes of passion.

"I cannot believe I just did that," she said as she dried her face with a towel.

"You could stand to be a little more flexible," I commented, wiping the sweat off my arms.

She smiled. "Do you have complaints about my litheness in the bedroom?"

"No," I blushed. "But there's nothing wrong with a little more agility."

She looked me up and down. "You're so fucking hot right now."

My blush deepened. "I was thinking the same thing about you."

Alex nodded her head towards the back of the room and we found a single-stall bathroom where we began making out before the door was even shut. She lifted me onto the lip of the sink and got on her knees in front of me, pulling my sweat pants off one leg and leaving them dangling on the other.

Turns out, hot yoga was a success on many levels.

* * *

Our next stop was to a Japanese tea ceremony at Cha-An.

"So which are you more into, Japanese culture or tea?" Alex asked, holding the door open for me.

"Tea, but I'm fascinated by Japanese culture." I took a sip of ginger tea and ordered the tea-smoked salmon and 15 grain rice. "Have you been?"

"To Japan?"

I nodded.

"Yes, but don't let my experience distort your image." Alex went on to tell me about hellish transportation issues from Tokyo to Nagoya and the extreme language barrier in addition to a 5.8 earthquake while she was there.

It was good for me to hear that not all of her travels were smooth sailing. Still, the stories she told were captivating, and I longed to experience half of what she had already experienced at such a young age. It brought me back to my time in Geneva and the risks I took there. I'd wondered if my life could be exciting like it was then, and I realized that the potential was there the more I got to know Alex.

To end our date, I took Alex shopping. It wasn't romantic by any stretch, but she'd asked me to show her what I liked to do, and I loved to shop. Finding bargains in high-end stores was one of my favorite past times.

We went to Barneys, Saks and Bergdorf Goodman. Alex bought a sleeveless black leather dress that I wanted to rip right off of her when she tried it on. She also bought a Givenchy handbag and a pair of thigh high stockings. She bought me a plush robe and a La Perla chemise and matching Brazilian panties.

"You're going to put this on the minute we walk in the door, but it'll be off two minutes later."

I, on the other hand, bought a bright blue Michael Kors silk top with a gold zipper on sale for $25 and a designer pencil skirt for $30 and was quite pleased with my budget shopping.

Money seemed to be no object to Alex, and I loved how she splurged on fancy things. She was very generous with her money, too, and I never wanted to take advantage of that.

* * *

The morning of Alex's cocktail party, I awoke to the smell of bacon and heard _Walking in Memphis_ coming from the living room. I wrapped myself in the robe that Alex bought for me and shuffled into the other room, putting my slippers on as I walked.

I witnessed one of the few moments when Alex was completely unguarded. She knew every word to the song and bopped around as she read the directions on the Bisquick box. Alex did not strike me as a "bopper;" she was definitely a dirty dancer—a scrumptiously, naughty dancer, yet there she was in white pajama pants and a green sweatshirt, swaying and singing.

"Morning," I announced with a grin. "You have a little concert going on in here?"

She pushed her glasses up and looked a little self-conscious. "Not a concert; I just like this song."

"I love Marc Cohen." I picked up a piece of bacon from the counter and popped it in my mouth. "Did you know that he was an orphan?"

Alex smiled. "How do you know this random shit?"

"I just do." I shrugged.

"Sometimes," she began and kissed my forehead, "you're too cute for your own good."

Alex had never called me cute. She'd called me hot and beautiful and sexy, but never cute.

I kissed her on the lips. "Do you have the song, _True Companion_?"

"I think it's on this album." She patted my ass as she passed to change the track on the CD. "It's a little sappy, but anything for you." She let out an exaggerated sigh.

"I heard that!" I chastised her as she walked into the living room.

_Baby I've been searching like everybody else. Can't say nothing different about myself. _The song began and Alex walked back into the kitchen. "Pancakes?"

"You've never made breakfast for me." I stood next to her and looked at the ingredients on the counter. "What's going on?"

"A girl can't make breakfast for her lover?" She picked up the Bisquick again and grabbed the milk from the refrigerator.

The word _lover_ sent delightful little tingles up my arms. "Is that what I am? Your _lover_?"

She finished pouring the batter in a mixing bowl, and then walked over to me with a sly smile. "Can you think of a better term?"

I shook my head. "Say lover again."

"Lover," she whispered over and over as she placed tiny kisses all over my face and behind my ear.

Just before things got too heated, Alex stopped the kissing and put her forehead against mine. "I'm making you breakfast so that we can talk on a full stomach."

She'd told me once that her mom would make these elaborate meals when she needed to deliver bad news. Alex grew up in fear that any time her mom cooked something fancier than meatloaf or stir fry, she would end up in tears.

"Talk?" I pulled back a little.

"Piper, we need to have a conversation," she said with what sounded like apprehension.

Those are six words no woman _ever_ wants to hear. For me, it marked the beginning of at least two break ups and getting fired from my college job at a bookstore. Nothing good comes from 'needing to have a conversation.'


	3. Chapter 3

As a recap, here is where Chapter 2 ended:

_Just before things got too heated, Alex stopped the kissing and put her forehead against mine. "I'm making you breakfast so that we can talk on a full stomach."_

_She'd told me once that her mom would make these elaborate meals when she needed to deliver bad news. Alex grew up in fear that any time her mom cooked something fancier than meatloaf or stir fry, she would end up in tears._

"_Talk?" I pulled back a little._

"_Piper, we need to have a conversation," she said with what sounded like apprehension._

_Those are six words no woman ever wants to hear. For me, it marked the beginning of at least two break ups and getting fired from my college job at a bookstore. Nothing good comes from 'needing to have a conversation.' _

**Chapter 3**

"Should I sit down?" I ran my hand through my hair and lost all physical contact with Alex. For a split second, I felt naked.

She reached for me. "Why don't you take a shower, I'll finish making breakfast, and then we'll talk."

"I don't want to take a fucking shower, Alex!" I put my hands on my hips defiantly. "What do we need to talk about?"

"Calm down, Piper," she said in a soothing voice and reached for me again. "We need to talk about my job; my line of work, and how it might affect you."

"Your job?" I raised my eyebrows.

"Yes." Alex sat in a kitchen chair. "What did you think I wanted to talk about?"

I shrugged, a little humiliated by my outburst. "I thought maybe you wanted to…I don't know…stop seeing me or something."

"Jesus, Piper! You are the only person I know who can jump from swooning over the lyrics of _True Companion_ to thinking that we're going to break up." Alex snickered. There was a definite seriousness to her tone.

I tried making light of my flare-up, but I didn't make eye contact. "I'm unique that way."

"Listen." Alex held my hand and directed me to the table.

I lifted my butt onto the tabletop and sat in front of her, my legs on either side of her elbows.

"I am not breaking up with you." She removed her glasses, and then placed both of her hands on my thighs. "These last couple of months have been incredible, Piper. You make me so fucking happy, and I'm scared that when you learn more about what I do for a living, you're going to bolt." She looked down at her hands.

I'd never witnessed vulnerability in Alex, nor had I experienced this kind of honesty from _anyone_, let alone the woman I was seeing. I lifted her chin with my index finger. "There is nothing you could tell me that would make me leave you, Alex."

"Not even that I was married?" she joked.

"That's not funny." I raised my eyebrows. "You're not, are you?"

"Ew! As if!"

We stared at each other for a beat, and then Alex started rubbing her hands up and down my thighs in a comforting motion. Her expression sobered. "I've never wanted to share this part of myself with anyone. Hell, I've never wanted to be this _close_ to anyone, and part of my job dictates that." Her eyes appeared a touch watery.

Alex's sentiment astounded me. On the surface, she could be perceived as a rough, no-nonsense woman. She had a sharp tongue and a short temper, plus she was wicked smart. No one fucked with Alex, and she took pride in keeping up that persona.

"I'm going to tell you everything, and I want you to ask questions if you have any, not just now, but also in the future."

"Ok." I nodded.

She told me about how she met her no good, washed up, rock god father for the first time and how that relationship went nowhere, but her relationship with Fahri began that day and changed her life. She started as a drug mule at the age of 21, transferring packages along the Eastern seaboard. After a year of proving to her superiors that she could follow directions and use discretion, she moved up the ladder and began recruiting young women to become the mules.

A man named Talib and a woman named Priya took her under their wing and brought her to Montego Bay, Auckland, Guadalajara and Warsaw to show her the trade and introduced her to what would eventually become "her team." They asked Alex to book the travel arrangements for the head honchos in the cartel, and once she proved that she had a knack for finding five star hotels and Michelin rated restaurants, they allowed her to go on a few trips that she favored. Early last year, she began developing her own clients and hired "pretty young things" to work directly for her. She was expected to deliver a minimum of $60,000 in drug revenue per month.

"I travel a lot—sometimes for months at a time," she stated unapologetically.

"Then why have you been in New York for, like, two months?" I asked.

"Business kicked my ass in the spring and summer. I think I was home all of three days in June and July, but after Halloween, it just slowed down." Alex leaned back in her chair. "It's the nature of the beast. As Christmas approaches and people start getting depressed and shit, things will pick up."

I crossed my arms and stated the obvious. "What you do is illegal."

"Really, Piper? That's your response?" She laughed sarcastically.

"How can you have a job that you _know_ is against the law?" I hopped off the table and walked to the kitchen window, opening it enough to let some fresh air inside.

"I view it as an investment—the greater the risk, the greater the reward." Alex poured herself a cup of coffee. "I don't have a college degree. There's nothing that I'm qualified to do that would afford me the luxuries I want and the ability to see the world."

"What are the risks?" I turned to face her. "I mean if you get caught, what kind of time could you face?"

"With federal mandatory minimums, I could get life, but it's more likely to be 10 or 15 years." She shrugged. "Depends on a lot of things—what I was charged with, if others were involved, if the lawyer was savvy, if I would I take a plea bargain."

"And you're willing to take those risks?"

"I've been in this business for five, almost six years." She gave me a coy smile. "Clearly I am."

I let out a long sigh, then sat in a chair across from her. "Do you use a lot of drugs?"

"I did when I was younger," she replied, sliding her coffee cup to me.

"What kind?" I took a sip of Alex's coffee, and for a split second, it was exhilarating to put my lips on the mug where hers just were.

"You name it, I've tried it," she commented. "Except meth. That shit will fuck you up for life."

"Do you still do drugs?" I asked, pushing the mug back to her.

"I smoke pot once in a while and do X on occasion." She stood and added more creamer to the coffee. "I'm supposed to sell the products, not necessarily use them."

"Did you do heroin or cocaine?"

She nodded.

"When was the last time?" I rubbed my clammy palms on my legs.

"Heroin, a little over a year ago. I'm not a big fan of needles." She spun around and faced me. "And I did coke two days before I met you."

I swallowed hard.

"It was my last night in La Paz, Bolivia, and I'd just cleared a $750,000 transaction—the most money I'd ever earned for the cartel. To put it in perspective, I made almost $40,000 in three days." She sat back down and brushed her hair over her shoulders. "I was in a colonial palace with all these former professional soccer players, and everyone was doing lines. I hadn't seen Fahri in like six months, and he was there, celebrating with me. I almost missed my flight the next morning, and if that would have happened, you and I would have never met."

I mustered up the best smile I could, but I knew it was a futile attempt. "When we met at the bar, did you want to make me one of your drug mules?"

"No. That was never my intention," she said with a serious face. "I saw you, thought you were hot in a _country bumpkin_ kind of way and wanted to meet you. That's all. I swear." She took my hand. "Look, I don't want to keep anything from you, Piper, and if this is just too much reality, it's fine. I get it. You can walk away—no harm, no foul."

"What you do is dangerous." I looked at our joined hands, then back up at Alex. "But part of it—a big part of it—is exciting. You get to travel the world on someone else's dime and stay at the best hotels and eat at the finest restaurants, and that's really, really cool. Besides, it's _your_ job. Who am I to tell you what to do or how to live your life?"

"_Who are you_?" She caressed the back of my hand with her thumb. "You're someone who is beginning to mean a hell of a lot more to me than I ever expected."

I put my arms around her and pulled her into a tight embrace, tucking my head into the crook of her neck. "Why couldn't you be a florist or a real estate agent or something?"

I could feel her smile against the top of my head. "If I had a choice of being poor or being a fucking real estate agent, I'd rather be poor."

She pulled back and then kissed me firmly on the mouth. "Are you ok with all of this?"

"It's a lot to take in. I'll just think of it as having an adventurous girlfriend." I gave her a genuine smile. "Thank you for telling me."

"If you have questions, Piper, _ask_. Don't hold shit in and let it blow up into some God-awful fight."

"I won't."

We kissed in the middle of the kitchen, and my heart drew even closer to this woman.

I had no idea where our relationship would go, so I didn't allow Alex's business to color my feelings for her. She was honest with me, and I knew that if I ever felt uncomfortable, I could talk to her about it. I was far from innocent myself and had tried several drugs in the past and wasn't opposed to trying non-addictive drugs in the future.

We made pancakes and ate the cold bacon and spent much of the morning getting ready for the champagne and oyster party that evening.

Note: Thank you for the reviews so far. They mean the world to me. Two more chapters left. I might post another later today and the last one tomorrow since I doubt I'll get the chance to post on Thanksgiving.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The butterflies started flitting in my stomach around 4 o'clock as I began picturing Polly meeting Alex for the first time. I'd seen Alex with her friends a couple of times, and she was great, but when they brought newbies around, she became awkward and unwelcoming.

The first guests arrived at 7 p.m., and a stream of people poured in after that. When Polly arrived, I gave her a tour of the apartment, and I could tell she was confused about how Alex had acquired so many nice things at such a young age. I didn't want to share what Alex did for a living; that would come later…maybe.

As I feared, Alex was a smart ass to Polly, calling her Holly when she knew perfectly well what her name was. I talked about Polly often, so I didn't understand Alex's desire to distort her name. I introduced Polly to some of Alex's more mainstream friends, but I could tell that she was uncomfortable. She left the party after about an hour, promising to call me in the morning.

"Did your friend leave?" Alex asked, popping open another bottle of bubbly.

I gave her a cross look. "Why did you fuck up her name?"

"I was just giving her a little shit." She refilled my champagne flute. "Lighten up, Piper. Come eat oysters with me."

I followed her into the kitchen where a raw bar was set up and a burly man in a black rubber apron was shucking oysters and laying them on beds of crushed ice.

"You know oysters are an aphrodisiac?" I sucked one down.

"So I've heard." She ran her hand down my back and kept it on my ass as she shot an oyster. "But I don't need anything to make me want you more, baby. By the way, you look gorgeous tonight." She leaned in closer. "I can't wait to fuck you later."

I was usually not a fan of public displays of affection, but _hearing_ and _seeing_ and _smelling_ Alex made me throw that rule out the window. She ignited my senses and could turn me on in seconds. I kissed her deeply and trailed my tongue along her lower lip until we were interrupted by Fahri, who Alex introduced me to very briefly.

The rest of the evening was fun, but Alex was called into her office several times for private meetings. I wondered for a moment if they were doing cocaine or something, but Alex appeared perfectly sober until she drank two bottles of champagne. We all smoked a few joints and I was definitely drunk and high by midnight.

The next morning, I woke up smelling like an ashtray and booze. In fact, the whole room smelled like a bar.

"Are you awake?" I rolled over and nudged Alex on her naked shoulder.

She moaned. "Not really."

"Alex, it stinks in here. I mean _really_ stinks."

She sniffed. "Gross. It does."

I got out of the bed and opened the window. A small dusting of snow sat on the window ledge. I put on my robe and slippers and opened the door that led into the living room. What laid before me looked like a scene in a movie: beer and champagne bottles everywhere, oyster shells on the floor, a pink scarf that appeared to have vomit on it, dirty napkins, a broken vase, empty champagne flutes, and a bong.

"What the fuck?" I turned to Alex who hadn't budged. "Your apartment is a wreck."

"That's the sign of a good party," she mumbled. "Come back to bed."

It was difficult for me to join her in bed, knowing that mess that was out there. I was just glad that none of it spilled into the bedroom. Alex had mentioned to me that no one was allowed into the bedroom, and for that, I was grateful.

I backed up against her, letting her spoon me. "Alex, why don't you have a Christmas tree?"

"That's a good question, kid." She squeezed me. "I don't think I've had one since I was a child."

"Do you like them?" I entwined our fingers.

"Yeah, sure, I guess. Do you?"

"I love the holidays." I smiled. "And I love the smell of a fresh Christmas tree."

"Then let's get one," she groggily whispered in my ear. "But more sleep for now."

I brought her hand to my lips and kissed her knuckles. "I'd love that."

* * *

Alex arranged for a cleaning service to arrive at her apartment at 11 a.m., and I plotted our trip to a "cut your own" Christmas tree farm in Larchmont. How we were going to transport a tree on the subway was another question, but I ignored that potential issue at the time.

On our way to the farm, I reflected on the guests at the party the night before. "Were any of those women your drug mules?"

"At the party?" She glanced at me. "Two of them. Did you meet Kristen and Farina?"

"I don't know. What did they look like?" I asked.

"Kristen was the blonde with the fake tits and the Santa hat. Farina was the chubby one in the Louboutins." She stood when the subway chime signaled our stop.

"Farina is a drug mule?" I asked incredulously.

Alex laughed. "The unassuming ones are the best."

We walked onto the busy street and began our journey to the Christmas tree farm in the bright winter sun. It was rare that I thought Alex looked adorable (usually she was just smoking hot), but with her ivory beret and glasses, she was cute. Of course, the black leather jacket, tight jeans and pointy boots brought me back to the hotness. Part of it was also the way she carried herself.

"How do you meet them?" I tied my scarf tightly around my neck.

"Clubs, bars, restaurants, parties, on the subway, in Zabars. There's not one place that's better than another." She zipped her leather jacket. "I'm pretty good at spotting future associates."

"Do you have to do that regularly? Find them, I mean."

"I'm always on the lookout," she replied, holding my hand. "Sometimes it requires flirting or wining and dining them."

I couldn't help the twinge of jealousy that I felt. "You have to flirt?"

"I don't make out with them, if that's what you're worried about." She smiled.

"Did you make out with them before you met me?"

We turned the corner and saw the vast selection of trees.

"Sometimes, yeah. I'm not going to pretend that I was or even _am_ innocent." She kept walking. "I like women, and I like having sex with them."

"Alex, are we monogamous?" I didn't expect to ask that question, but it came flooding out of my mouth before I could reel it in.

She stopped behind the second row of Christmas trees and looked at me. "Do you want to be?"

"I haven't dated anyone else," I admitted. "And I don't think I want to."

"You don't _think_ you want to?" Alex squeezed my hand.

"That's right," I answered.

"I _know_ I don't want to." She grinned, removed her glasses with her free hand and tilted her head as she looked me directly in the eyes. "Move in with me."

My eyebrows shot up. "Move in? As in live with you?"

"Yes. I want you in my bed every night and every morning. I want you to put your cold feet against my calves and take over half my closet. I want to have sex with you whenever the fuck we want and not have to worry about you going back to your apartment an hour later." Alex stepped closer, and our lips were close enough to touch. "Move in with me, Piper."

I returned her gaze and bit my lower lip, then lightened the seriousness of the moment. "You want to make me your bitch? I see."

She laughed a hearty laugh. "You're not already?"

"Maybe I am." I playfully wiggled my eyebrows at her, but then whispered in her ear, "I'll be whatever you want me to be."

"I want you to be my girlfriend. My partner. My lover." She punctuated each statement with a kiss.

We made out like two teenagers in the middle of the Christmas tree farm, and I didn't give a rat's ass who could see us. I was moving in with Alex Vause, and everything was right with the world.

Note: In "Moscow Mule," there was a scene when Alex asked Piper if she remembered trying to fix _"our"_ toaster. It gave me the impression that they lived together at some point during their relationship…Bonus points for those of you who picked up on my nod to Polly in the wedding dress flashback from episode 1.10, "Bora Bora Bora. There will be another nod to the same scene in the final chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 - I don't know how to change the Rating on this chapter, but it is "M" for Mature. Please read at your own risk.

The physical part of moving in together was a breeze—I only owned clothes, shoes, accessories and a few personal effects. The mental toll that it took was a little heavier on Polly. She made it clear that she didn't like Alex upon meeting her and had questions about how Alex could afford a luxurious apartment full of exotic furnishings.

"She's a very private person," I told her. "Please don't judge her by what she owns."

"I'm not judging her, but I do find it curious," Polly replied. "Something doesn't add up."

"She makes me extraordinarily happy, and I think she's fascinating. That's all you need to know."

We left it at that, but I knew Polly disapproved of my moving in with Alex.

In some ways, I felt bad about keeping the truth from Polly, but it didn't stop me from being overjoyed about my new living situation.

Alex welcomed me on my first official night as live-in partners with delivery from my favorite Chinese restaurant and a six pack of my favorite beer. She was an expert at using chopsticks, while I was a novice.

"Don't stab it!" Alex laughed. "Scoop it like this."

"It's impossible to eat rice with chopsticks! I don't know how Asians do it. I've seen them flip eggs with these things."

"Not all Asians use chopsticks, but the ones that do were taught at a young age how to do it just like we were taught to use a fork and spoon." Alex leaned closer to me. "It's how you're holding them." She put her hand over mine and showed me the motion. "Like this."

After she let go, I attempted it again. "I tried that, Alex, and it doesn't work."

"I'll take you to China where you'll be forced to learn," she suggested.

After dinner, I played one of Alex's Christmas albums (she only owned two: the Jackson 5 and Bing Crosby), and suggested that we bake holiday cookies. I'd wanted to make them from scratch, but she reminded me of our last cooking debacle, so I bought premade Pillsbury sugar cookies with frosting and sprinkles.

"I can't remember a Friday night when I stayed in," she commented, breaking apart the sheet of cookie dough like it was a foreign object. "And I don't think I've ever, in my adult life, baked cookies."

"It's my first night officially living with you," I replied as I placed each piece of dough onto a greased baking pan. "I'm glad we're staying in."

"This isn't going to be a thing, right?" Alex raised her eyebrows. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I love hanging out with you at home, but this is a little too domestic for me."

Since childhood, I had been torn between wanting a wild, adventurous life and a calm, domesticated one. Even at the age of 23, I wasn't sure which side would ultimately win the battle within me.

"What would you rather be doing right now?" I shoved the pan into the oven.

"I don't know." Alex licked the dough off her fingers. "Playing high stakes poker in the back room of a bar; sitting ringside at the Tyson fight; drinking whiskey at a jazz lounge, riding around the City on a Harley. Something more exciting than…baking."

Besides drinking at a jazz bar, those things were completely foreign to me. Alex never failed to excite me with her ideas of fun, and I wished I'd had the life experiences to compare.

"I want to do all of those things with you." I kissed her temple. "But for now, we're baking cookies in your kitchen." I bit her earlobe and changed my tone to sultry. "And when they're done, I'm going to fuck your brains out."

"Now _that_ sounds like fun!"

As _White Christmas_ played, we waited for the cookies to finish baking and thoroughly made out in the kitchen. Alex pressed me against the counter and slid her hands up my shirt, gently kneading my breasts. I put my hands on her face and kissed her deeply. The noises she made when she got hot and bothered consistently turned me on.

She lifted me a bit, and I sat on the countertop as she pulled down my jeans and underwear in one swoop. "Fuck waiting," she breathed against my thigh.

I opened my legs for her and smiled. Alex buried her head in my lap and licked me. My head dropped back and hit the cabinet, but the pain was minimized due to the sensations going on in my nether regions. She was so good at this, and she never failed to make me come—often multiple orgasms were her (and my) reward.

"I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming…" I rode out my orgasm while Alex finished licking me.

She smiled and kissed me fully on the mouth. I didn't mind tasting myself on her, and I _loved_ knowing that the tongue that was in my mouth was just lapping at my pussy.

"You are so fucking good," I panted.

"So are you," she whispered.

Alex went into the bathroom to clean up, and I put on a new pair of underwear. We met back in the kitchen.

"Are you going to your parent's house on Christmas day?" Alex asked as she cleaned a mixing bowl.

"Yeah, but just for the day, I think." I finished drying another bowl. "I might spend the night if I get too inebriated to take the train back."

"You get drunk with your family?" She put the bowl onto a high shelf in the cupboard.

"On holidays, yes," I replied, wiping the counter with Lysol. "Sometimes they're too much to take, so I self-medicate."

She chortled. "I've never been drunk in front of my mom."

"That's because you have too much respect for her," I said in earnest. "Are you going to her place on Christmas?"

"She's coming here," Alex said. "She'll make baked macaroni, my favorite, and I'll throw some lettuce in a bowl and call it a salad. I usually order a glazed ham and some kind of festive pie."

The timer on the oven beeped, and I pulled out a tray of perfectly baked cookies. "Let me make a pie for the two of you."

"Piper, you cannot bake, which is why you bought this premade cookie dough." She cleared a space on the counter for me to put the hot pan. "It's fine. I'm placing the order at Sarabeth's tomorrow."

"Please let me do this." I set the pan down and looked at her. "You've opened your home to me, and I want to make a good impression on your mom."

Alex had shared with me that she told her mom about the two of us. She and her mother were very close, and I'd heard them talking on the phone several times. It was clear that Alex adored her mother and still sought her approval.

"My mom already likes you, Piper," she said, lifting a single cookie with a spatula. "You don't need to go through the trouble."

"I want to," I whined. "Besides, she doesn't even know me yet."

"Yeah. I'd like to change that." She broke off a piece of sugar cookie and fed it to me.

"Fuck, that's hot!" I spit the cookie into the sink, and Alex laughed.

"Sorry."

I wiped my mouth. "You want me to meet her?"

"Yeah," she replied. "Maybe next week?"

I nodded and smiled.

"I should also tell you that I have to go to Bali on the 30th." She busied herself with the frosting and sprinkles.

"Oh." My heart sank. I knew this day would come and that there would be many more days like it. "For how long?"

"It's rare that I know the answer to that question." She covered my hand with hers.

"Can you give me a ballpark? Two days? Two weeks?" I flipped my hand over so that our palms touched.

Alex shrugged. "I have no idea, and I don't want to make false promises."

I knew this was her life, and I accepted it. I just didn't like the thought of being alone.

"I guess that's that." I forced a smile, and I'm sure it looked as fake as it felt.

"Yeah," she said with conviction. "It is."

* * *

Christmas came and went, and I ended up spending the night at my parents' house after having far too many Mandarin vodka sodas. I couldn't wait to return to New York and Alex.

She was right about business picking up around Christmas, because she spent hours on her computer and phone. I had to work most mornings and early afternoons at the diner, but when I got home, I had gotten accustomed to hanging out or going places with her. Those days appeared to be gone. Alex was awake at the same time that I was, which was before sunrise, and often worked through dinner.

When she finally got a break, she took me to Chinatown and we bought exotic silk scarves. Alex bought me a pair of children's chopsticks that were connected at the top. I bought her a tortoise shell hair pin, and when I gave it to her, there was deep emotion in her eyes. I had the impression that everything that Alex owned, she bought herself, so when she was gifted something, it touched her.

She was scheduled to leave the next day for Bali and had wrapped up her travel plans when we returned from our outing. By 10 pm, she was packed and reading a novel in bed, listening to Benny Latimore as I folded our silk scarves. I started shaking my hips and intentionally provoking her. It didn't take much to get Alex sexually aroused, and I loved that I had that power over her.

"Come with me," she said.

To say I was startled by her invitation would be an understatement, but I desperately wanted to be with her. The thought of traveling the world with Alex excited me as much as the thought of having sex with her every single night in some foreign destination.

"Is that a yes?" she asked.

"Yes," I breathed heavily.

When Alex and I had sex, it was often downright dirty and delicious, but that night, it was more like making love. I'd never considered sex like that with her, until that moment. It was still hot and all-consuming, but it was also more tender and gentler than in times past. I took it as an unspoken commitment; that Alex would take care of me no matter where we went.

And with that, I accepted her proposal and knew that if she ever offered anything to me, I'd _always_ take it.

The End

Thanks so much for reading and for the feedback. I don't have any plans to write another story at the time, but if you have suggestions, feel free to shoot them my way: saintsavory .


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